Italian Criminal
by Thyandria
Summary: Ezio is an new assassin in Italy and after he assassinates Arturo Bianchi a wealthy merchant , he's ordered to go back for the man's ledger and comes across Arturo's stubborn and fiery daughter Valeria. A difficult and hateful relationship begins. E x OC
1. Encounter

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from Assassin's Creed. I do, however, own Valeria Bianchi and her family.**

The dark streets of Venice were silently eerie. A part from a scattering of beggars the place was vacant. The air smelled moist and salty from the massive, deep, and watery channels that surrounded the city. A single gondola navigated the water tonight, its lamp extinguished, the driver a heavily armed mysterious hooded figure. As the gondola neared the stone streets the man leaped from the bow and landed softly on the cobbles, his blood red cape and white tunic rustling in the mild wind. His figure ominous and stately, a white hood drawn over his head to conceal his face. The white tunic he wore was ornately embellished with red and silver accents and off one shoulder draped a red cape with the crest of Venice embroidered on the center. A red sash across his waist was adorned with several belts that holstered blades of varying sizes. His boots, leggings, and gauntlets were all the chocolate color of leather. Tall, lean and muscular this man was built for both speed and strength.

He walked along the street silently, his cape flitting behind him. He stopped suddenly in front of a wealthy Venetian villa. The windows dark, all who were within lay asleep not knowing what was about to conspire. The man scaled the front wall of the villa effortlessly, using protruding bricks and window ledges to do so. He pushed lightly on a windowpane about three stories up, it swung open immediately and he climbed in quietly. The room he now stood in was large and ornate, fitting for an upper class merchant. In the center of the room was a large canopy bed with white linens, in the bed slept a man of medium build who looked to be in his fifties. He lay on his back, snoring lightly, with a leather ledger sitting open on his stomach. The man asleep matched the description that the man dressed in white and red was given. He walked swiftly towards the bed and a thin dagger slid from his right hand gauntlet as he approached the sleeping man.

His moves were quick and thorough. The sleeping man wasn't even awake before he was dead. The assassin laid the man's head back down onto the pillow gently as the blood poured the wound in his neck and onto the killer's hand. Sweeping his fingers over the man's eyes to shut them, the assassin left the room as quietly as he had entered it leaving the leather ledger lying on the cold wooden floor.

††††††

Valeria awoke suddenly, the nightmare she had been seeing vanishing in a haze before her startled chocolate eyes. Her breathing was heavy and irregular and her body soaked in sweat and shivering. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and wiped the moisture from it and pushed back her long wavy dark brown hair from her face. It had been a year and a half since she had found the body of her father, Arturo Bianchi, covered in blood in his room. She had gone to check on him that night because she knew that he would be up late studying his ledger for the upcoming gathering of merchants in Florence. It had just been her, Arturo and her chambermaids in the villa that week. Arturo had sent her brother Ciro ahead of him to Florence with the family guards and butler. The murderer had chosen the best time to attack.

She arose from her bed; her body still quivering in fright from her dream that made her relive her fathers death. She snatched the candle from her beside table and her father's old leather ledger from inside a drawer in the table, placed the ledger in the pocket of her night gown, and crossed the room to the door quickly. She stepped out into the hall and made her way to her father's room, she always slept better there. Her stomach knotted and squirmed as she opened the door. The door creaked from under use and the floorboards felt especially cold under her feet than the rest of the house. She took several steps into the room before she saw him lurking in the corner by the window. Gasping, she let the candle fall from her hand to the floor with a crash. The noise it made echoed throughout the room. The figure stood and walked towards her silently, when she made like she was going to scream for the guards he jumped at her and brought her to the ground. His hand pressed against her mouth tightly, his left arm cradling her neck.

"Don't make a sound." The man whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her skin. "The man that died here about a year ago, he kept a ledger. Where is it?"

She shook her head violently, and thrashed her arms trying to loosen his grip on her. His arms remained solidly wrapped around her and his hand clamped to her mouth. She had closed her eyes when he jumped at her, and now she opened them slowly to see her captor. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she began to make out his outline. The white hood he had over his head covered the upper half of his face but she could make out his lips and nose clear enough. His lips were stoic and handsome, neither frowning nor smiling at her. She looked at his waist and saw numerous blades and pouches attached to several belts.

"It must still be here, and if you are who I believe you are, you know where it is."

She squeezed her eyes shut again and tried to speak through his hand. But all she could manage through his grip was "Mhmmhm!"

"I'm not going to hurt you. I am going to let you speak, but speak loudly and there will be consequences." He let his hand slowly down from her mouth and loosened his grip on her torso.

Her breath was ragged and angry, she glared at him with all her might as she pushed herself away from him. "Who are you?" she hissed vehemently.

"That is none of your concern, and knowing so will bring you death."

"Why do you want my fathers ledger?"

"Again, none of your concern." He was growing impatient. "I'll ask again. Where is the ledger?"

She was silent. Then realization came over her. "It was you who murdered my father."

"It would do you well to worry about your own fate at this moment instead of his."

"I'd sooner die than tell you where his ledger is."

"Do you even know what is contained within it?"

"No."

"Then you are in no position to keep it from me if you are ignorant."

She stared at him venomously, not speaking again. Anger welled up in her chest and throat, anger from finally coming face to face with the man that had caused her so much grief and depression. She knew her father to be a good and fair man. She could not comprehend why some one would be sent to kill him.

The assassin sighed with impatience. He grabbed her by the collar of her nightgown and pinned her roughly against the nearest wall. Pulling both of her arms above her head he immobilized them by holding her wrists there in one hand while he searched her. Patting her nightgown quickly and thoroughly he came across the pocket where she had placed the ledger earlier. He slipped the leather book from her clothes.

"Now, was that so hard?" He questioned, almost smiling at her.

Her eyes grew fiery and anger welled up inside her. She didn't care if he killed her or not as long as he went down with her. "CIRO, GUARDS, HELP!" she screamed with all her might. She flailed her limbs everywhere hoping to strike or trip him. He grunted roughly, but held her where she was still, not falling under her actions.

"You really had to make this difficult didn't you?" His said to her, his voice filled with annoyance. He sighed, then slipped the ledger into his garments, shoved her towards the door, sprinted to the window he came in by, and swung up to the roof of the house.

After she regained her balance she ran to the window and looked around wildly. As she heard the guards and her brother running up the hall towards her she spoke out into the darkness to the assassin and thief.

"I will never stop hunting you, as long as I live, until you are punished for what you have done to me."


	2. Leonardo

Ciro rushed into the room, dagger unsheathed, preparing himself for what might be causing his sister to cry out so. He stopped, confused, when he saw her standing alone at the window the wind blowing her hair and nightgown furiously around her. She turned and stared at him, her eyes fiery and vengeful. "He came back, that bastard actually came back." He knew instantly whom she spoke of, he had heard tales of the hooded murderer who haunted Italy's cities most recently his city of Venice. The man who had claimed their father's life.

"Did he do anything to you?" He questioned, walking over to her and laying the dagger on a nearby nightstand. She shook her head adamantly, insuring him that the man had not violated her.

"He came for father's ledger, the one I found lying next to him when I…when I discovered him."

"Do you know why he would want it?" Ciro asked in disbelief, she shook her head again. No one knew what their father had kept in that ledger of his, not even their mother had known when she was alive. He sighed, running his hand through his sandy hair and then over his tired chestnut eyes. He had just applied for a position on the Doge's personal guard and the training kept him up and active for most of the day and evening, so this interruption to his much needed sleep had not been welcomed. Valeria shivered violently, the cold wind suddenly starting to get to her. Ciro wrapped an arm around her and lead her to the door, "try and get some sleep, we'll sort this whole mess out in the morning." He said, kissing her forehead and sending her off to her room.

She closed the door slowly, watching her weary brother trod off to the comfort of his own bed for a second time tonight. She sighed heavily and finally let her fear creep into her thoughts. He could have killed her and she knew this fully, but he didn't so deep down he knew that he did not kill in cold blood. 'No,' she thought sourly, 'there had to be a reason for him to stab you to death, and that was good enough for him'. She sighed again, and pulled her hair back with one of the ribbons her mother had left for her when she died. They were made from imported Chinese silk and had been a wedding present from her father to her mother, Valeria kept them in the drawer of her nightstand and took them out whenever she needed comforting, she ran her thumb over the soft shiny fabric before putting it in her dark hair. It would be a long while before she fell asleep, but at least she had the memory of her mother to comfort her.

The next morning was horribly bright and cheerful. The sun was shining and more gondoliers seemed to be singing than usual as they rowed through the murky canal water, winking at girls as they stopped to listen and stare. Valeria was anything but bright and cheerful; her run in with the notorious Assassin last night had put her in a foul yet determined mood today. She had announced at breakfast that she was going to pay a visit to a family friend that had moved to Venice from Florence about a year and a half ago. She was ever hopeful that he could make sense of the recent happenings

She moved among the hustle of the morning crowd easily and gracefully, holding her skirts in one hand, a small package in the other. The bright colors of the merchant market usually intrigued her; she loved the smell of fresh baked bread, the laughter of old friends, and most of all the taste of fresh picked apples her usual morning treat. But she was not her normal easy going self this morning, not eager to laugh with the sellers, her features were hard and cold and she walked purposefully. She finally came upon an ornate wooden door, obviously carved by the owner, tucked just off of an ally set into a two story brick building which looked out of place in Venice. She pounded on the door knowing that the resident would most likely be distracted, but today it was only a few seconds before her opened the door and she saw his smiling face.

"Good morning Leonardo." Leonardo DaVinci was a man in his early thirties with light brown hair and what Valeria liked to think of as a friendly and mildly handsome face. He had sold some art through her father and established a relationship with the family a few years ago. He quickly became a dear friend to Valeria when they established that they both had similar views about people and life in general. She enjoyed simply spending time with him and having intelligent and philosophical conversations with him that she didn't get at home or even with her tutor, and it was through those conversations and times with him that got her through her father's death. He was an extremely inventive man with too many ideas to organize he was always tinkering with something or sketching out a new building or painting. He had often asked for her to let him paint her, but she always refused, not comfortable with having a man survey her so carefully and completely for hours on end. Though ten or so years her senior, she had often contemplated a deeper relationship with him knowing he would be more than willing to consent, but she shrugged the feelings off thinking them silly and childish, more a curiosity than real romantic love.

"Ah, good morning to you as well my dear. You are looking as beautiful as ever." He said with a smile. She couldn't help but let a small smile of her own slip through as he kissed her cheek in greeting. "Please, come in, come in." He ushered her in and offered her a chair.

"No, I would really rather stand," her tone serious. "I've actually come here to speak on a personal matter that I am hoping you can help me with."

"Of course, is everything alright? You seem more burdened than usual." He touched her elbow lightly, his eyes genuinely concerned.

She looked at the floor, concentrating on the pattern of the grain in the wood as she gathered her thoughts. "I was visited last night…" Leonardo waited patiently for her to finish, "by the man who killed my father. He came this time for the ledger that father kept as part of his business. He stole it from me, and then leapt out the window, I couldn't stop him." A small whimper escaped her lips as she held back tears. He put a hand on her shoulder and guided her to a chair which he gently pushed her into, he then handed her his glass of wine that he had been neglecting. She took a grateful drink and rested the cup in her hand on her lap, her thumb tracing the ornate design around it as she swallowed. She cleared her throat and continued trying to revert back to her emotionless state. "I came here wondering if you knew anything at all about what my father kept in that ledger, you were close with him in a business manner, maybe he shared something with you that he couldn't tell us, his family?"

He shook his head regretfully; tapping his fingers on the solid wood table they were seated next to, it was something he did when he was thinking. "No, I'm sorry to say that he never did such a thing. He always brought it with him when we met but he never opened it, just held it in his hands, like it was something precious."

She sighed and shook her head, taking another heavy drink of wine. "I just don't understand how this man could know about my father's ledger, and what is contained within it. How could something so small and seemingly unimportant get a man killed?" Leonardo shrugged.

"These are strange times we live in."

There was suddenly a loud knocking at the door, the voice attached to the knock called for Leonardo in an urgent tone. He stood to walk towards the door, then stopped and turned to face her again; he had a strange and uncomfortable look on his face. "You didn't happen to see the man's face did you?"

"No, only his lips and nose but I feel like I could remember them if I saw them again," she said adamantly. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no specific reason. I'm sorry but I really must take this, if you will excuse me for a moment." She nodded and watched as he opened the door carefully then stepped out to talk to the visitor in private. She frowned, wondering why he was acting so odd all of a sudden because of a knock on his door. She ran a hand over her face, trying to settle her mind and focus. Standing, she began to wander around his workshop. It was a hobby of hers to stop by unexpectedly and just look around as he worked, enjoying studying his scale models of future buildings or his medical sketches from the bodies the city donated to him. What she loved most was to watch him paint, it was when he was the most relaxed, and his normally quizzical face was serene. She reached the most recent main exhibit; a machine that he claimed could allow a man to fly. The frame was made of light flexible honey colored wood, the flesh ivory tinted fabric that looked like the cloth used for tents during Carnivale. She stood marveling at it when he walked back it, shutting the door gently behind him. He walked up next to her his arms folded over his chest and surveyed her face.

"Can it really fly Leonardo?" She asked wistfully.

He smiled, staring at his contraption proudly. "Maybe someday, if I can ever find a man insane enough to test it."


End file.
